


Operation ‘Take Care of Brendon’

by MistressKat



Series: Access All Areas [3]
Category: Bandom, Empires (Band), Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 11:17:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11943030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/pseuds/MistressKat
Summary: “We’re here to celebrate you finishing another successful year of education,” Jon announces.





	Operation ‘Take Care of Brendon’

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dishonestdreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dishonestdreams/gifts).



Brendon’s last exam of the year is on Friday afternoon. He’d grumble about the timing but some of his house mates have a Monday morning exam to still look forward to so he’s wisely been keeping his mouth shut. The exam hall is in one of the oldest buildings of the university and the thick stone walls seem to have hoarded all the coldness of the winter for the express purpose of releasing it on the stressed students in May. Trying to make your hand-writing legible when you’re shaking with cold or trying to make a half decent argument when your brain is sluggish like a hibernating snake is no way to win top marks. Quite frankly, at this point Brendon will be happy to just pass… Though a good grade would be nice of course.  
  
He stays for the whole exam period even though the last twenty minutes are mostly spent adding commas and shivering. Once the time is called, Brendon gathers his bag and jacket and emerges blinking into the early evening sunlight. It’s not that late really and it _is_ Friday but he is exhausted and feeling more than a little at loose ends now that the month of cramming and exams is finally finished. Honestly, he’s not really sure what to do with himself now or where to go and so he ends up just sitting down on the steps while the rest of class files around him with occasional waves and pats to the back. After the first few exams, people, Brendon included, had been interested in dissecting the questions and comparing their answers but by now everyone is out of fucks to give.  
  
Gradually, the crowd thins out, the examiners walking out last, carrying boxes full of scripts. Brendon watches them disappear from sight, then watches his bus go past, then a pair of pigeons squabbling over a sandwich wrapper. He’s trying to gather enough co-ordination to get up and go home and maybe sleep for a week but the focus to actually do that seems to be slipping away like sand through his fingers.  
  
“Did someone cut your strings?” a familiar voice suddenly asks, followed immediately by another, equally familiar one advising him to: “Tell us who it was and we’ll fight them for you.”  
  
“And by that he means,” Jon says, sitting down next to Brendon on the steps, “that we’ll take some unflattering photos of them and post them on the internet.”  
  
“The most vicious of burns!” Tom agrees, grinning down at them. “Whatcha doin’ Brendon?” he sing-songs.  
  
“I… What?” Brendon looks from Jon to Tom and back again, somehow unable to make sense of the fact that they are actually here. “Shouldn’t that be my question?” he asks finally, not even bothering to try and suppress the smile spreading over his face. “What are you guys doing here?”  
  
“Today was your last exam, right?” Jon raises an eyebrow at him.  
  
“Yes, but…”  
  
“Well, it should be obvious then!” Tom reaches down with both hands and when Jon grabs one Brendon instinctively follows suit. He’s pulled to his feet, bouncing a little off both Tom and Jon as the three of them stagger about some to find their balance on the steps.  
  
“We’re here to celebrate you finishing another successful year of education,” Jon announces once they have all made it safely to the street level.  
  
“You… really?” Brendon suddenly feels stupidly close to tears, the stress of the last weeks tumbling over in the face of such an open display of affection.  
  
“Yes, really,” Tom promises. His voice is softer now, like he’s sensing how overwhelmed Brendon is feeling. He tucks Brendon under his arm for a brief moment, squeezing tightly.  
  
“C’mon then,” Jon says, steering both of them toward the parking lot where their old, beaten up transit van is waiting. “Let’s get this party started!”  
  
“Where are we going?” Brendon fumbles the seat belt three times before Tom calmly takes over and clicks it into place for him. “I really appreciate this guys, but I don’t think I’m up to clubbing or anything…” Brendon smiles sheepishly, feeling bad because Jon and Tom have gone to the trouble to come and get him and plan something, but he honestly doesn’t think he’s going to see the midnight and the thought of something like Ruby Rage with loud music and louder drinks is honestly making his skin crawl right now.  
  
“No clubbing,” Jon promises, shifting gears and pulling the van into the evening traffic. “We were thinking of something a bit more… low key. With just the three of us?” The last part comes out like a question, as if he isn’t quite sure Brendon would be up it. Which, seriously? Sheer craziness.  
  
“Disney marathon, pizza and ice-cream,” Tom elaborates in a clear attempt to sweeten the deal.  
  
Brendon sighs happily, burrowing deeper into the frayed upholstery. He’s wedged in between Jon and Tom, warm and safe and no longer feeling like he has nowhere to go. “Sounds perfect,” he says, closing his eyes.  
  
Over his dozing form, Jon and Tom exchange pleased little smiles. Operation ‘Take Care of Brendon’ is a go.


End file.
